Literary Experiments and Emotional Catharsis

Phantasmagoria

I try to seduce the muse,
all the time
And all the time
She eludes me
Like a pristine princess
who thinks I’m not good enough
for her

On a languid, lethargic
Saturday afternoon
As the sun harshly
forces me indoor
I lose touch
with the sweat and the dirt
And pick up the
proverbial notebook
trying to paint
with foreign words
foreign feelings

When the cool evening breeze
calms my inner demons
I walk out, and
see the day labourers
walking back home
with the sweat and the dirt
I avoided, so casually,
along with their words,
and feelings, for which
I’ve no vocabulary

It’s then that I wonder
If the muse
is too pristine,
or am I all tangled up
in an unreal world
that she knows
all to well
will collapse any day now

The image casts a deepening spell .. forcing to delve into issues much deeper than usual ..
I wondered .. how can one distill the bitter truths of a fractured world and discover the humanity that unites us.